


Lullaby

by angelkat



Series: The Wee Compendium of Sweet Ginger [5]
Category: The Adventures of Puss in Boots (Cartoon)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-29
Updated: 2018-11-29
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:47:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21806125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelkat/pseuds/angelkat
Summary: "Is this...a happy tune for you?"[direct continuation of previous one-shot.]
Relationships: Puss/Dulcinea
Series: The Wee Compendium of Sweet Ginger [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1571299
Kudos: 5





	Lullaby

He did not understand why she stopped her humming.

He continued his nightly ventures over the rooftops to play the music he played, but for some odd reason, it…no longer felt the same.

He suddenly felt alone again.

So he stopped.

After all, she was the reason he played, and if she was not there, there was no point in doing it anymore.

…

She did not understand why he stopped his playing.

She did not go out the balcony anymore as she usually did, because she had finally come to the realization that maybe she was invading something private, something raw, something that he really did keep a secret for a reason, and it would be wrong to listen—as innocent as her true intentions were.

She tried, she really did. But she still found that she could not sleep easily at night. Old habits die hard, so to speak, and listening to him play has become a regular part of her routine by now.

She did stay inside her room.

But that did not mean she couldn’t hear it if he wasn’t playing anymore.

* * *

“Puss—”

“Dulcinea?”

They stopped and stared at one another.

Dulcinea had come to the orphanage’s rooftop to wait for him to come as he usually did.

Puss had come to see the stars as he usually did before going to bed, but seeing Dulcinea there, on his spot, was, well…unexpected.

Silence reigned between them as the night continued to glitter from above them.

Puss walked towards her, closing the distance.

“Why are you here?”

She stood from her spot and took a step back away from him. “Why are _you_ here?” she countered.

He stopped walking. “I…well. It is late, and you should be asleep.”

“Well…” she began, uncomfortably, “well. So should you.”

Puss chuckled nervously and scratched the back of his head. “Right. Touché.”

Again, silence.

Then he could not take it anymore.

“Look, Dulcinea, can we please, _please_ stop pretending?”

 _Oh fiddlefuff, he knows_ , panicked Dulcinea. “Puss—I—I’m sorry—”

“Because I have been recently thinking about how you and I—wait. What?”

That uncomfortable silence again.

“You—you are…sorry?” He was honestly confused. “For what?”

“Um…I…” She was fiddling with her fingers. Then she blurted, “Why are you bringing a guitar with you?”

He blinked for several moments before lifting the guitar he had in his paw to see it before his eyes, as if he never realized he even had it on his person in the first place.

“Ah,” he intoned, for lack of words to say. “Dulcinea…I know you know that I play.”

Her gaze was back to firm and steady, even though he could see how the clenched paws by her side trembled a little.

“But you no longer do.”

“Ha…well…th-that is…I—”

“It’s my fault,” she cut him off, and he blinked, shocked; he looked to her to make her see the confusion in his eyes, but she had bowed her head as if she could not bear to look at him. “I’m sorry.”

“ _Sorry?_ ” He was incredulous. “Dulcinea, you did nothing wrong—“

“I was listening to your playing every night, even though I knew you wanted to keep it a secret!” The words rushed from her mouth so quickly, it seemed to Puss as if she was trying to rip off an adhesive bandage. “I…invaded your privacy! I wasn’t supposed to listen. I should’ve known there was a reason why you didn’t tell anyone that you could play, but then—then one night, you heard me humming along, and that was when you knew I was there, and from that night on, you just stopped. _playing_. All because I was there, and I’m sorry, I’m sorry for intruding—”

“Dulcinea, listen to me,” he told her gently but firmly, because she needed to stop rambling and putting together so many words that meant nothing to him. “This is a small thing. It is not a big deal.”

“It is, to me,” she insisted. She’d recently just found out that the reason she couldn’t sleep was not because of habit—it was because of guilt. “So let me apologize.”

He drew out a slow sigh. “As I have already said…Dulcinea, I know that you know that I play.”

“Yes, and you found it out when you heard me hum along—”

“I knew even before I heard you hum.”

“Um.” Now it was her turn to be flabbergasted. “What? But…but how…” she trailed off weakly.

He grinned at her. Maybe she really _was_ unaware that she hummed the melody of his song in plain earshot, but of course, being Puss in Boots, he did not let that opportunity to preen go to waste. “You underestimate my powers of deduction, my lady.” He proceeded to sit himself down on his usual spot, crossing his legs to comfortably position his guitar in his arms, but he made sure to inch a little to the side to give more space for one more.

“Come hither,” he coaxed, not looking at her as he began to check if the strings were tuned properly. Finally satisfied with how a single strum sounded, he smiled, and finally looked up at her with his glittering eyes, the green made more startlingly pronounced by the dim light of the moonlit night. “There is something I would like to tell you.”

Something was suddenly caught in Dulcinea’s throat, and she swore the touch of a blush was spreading across her cheeks underneath her white fur. She lifted a paw to rub at her upper arm in an abashed manner, turning her head away. “Um…I don’t really think….”

“Oh, come on,” he cajoled, “It is forgiveness you want, yes? Then I would not be able to forgive you any other way than this. So sit.”

She sniffled, then rolled her eyes, but eventually, she obliged.

“See? I do not bite. That is,” he provoked, arching a sort of flirtatious eyebrow at her once she was seated beside him, “unless you want me to.”

It took a moment for Dulcinea to realize what he was implying before gasping and punching him on the shoulder in return. “How inappropriate!”

“Ha! So you _can_ pick up!” He laughed heartily and gave Dulcinea an expectant look to invite her to laugh along with him, but when she only maintained that staunch deadpan on her face, Puss felt a wave of embarrassment when he forced himself to push the laughter deep down into the oblivion of his throat. “Alright,” he said, clearing said throat, “I shall get to my point.”

He adjusted his arms and put his left paw fingers over a fret. But just as he moved his right paw to strum—

“Wait,” she said, catching his fingers before they made a sound. “Are you…certain I have earned enough level of your friendship to be trusted with this secret of yours?”

He looked at her, dumfounded.

“ _Earned my friendship?_ ” he choked.

The incredulous look he was giving her suddenly made her feel stupid, so she drew her paw back and fiercely swore _fiddlefuff fiddlefuff fiddlefuff_ in the back of her tongue before rambling, “Um, I’m sorry, it’s just that—I thought—I’m _very_ new to talking with outsiders, and—I’m just uncertain how to talk to _you_ most of the time, so I will try to—”

“No.” Suddenly he looked stern. There she was again rambling with all those meaningless words _._ “Do not change. I like you this way.”

Her features softened, which she did not even realize were strained in the first place. She turned her head to smile at the crescent moon.

“Then thank you.”

It was not until she had so softly spoken those heartfelt words before Puss snapped out of the dazed and probably-creepy-way that he had been staring at her. He cleared his throat and turned to face the moon as well.

“Of course. And,” he felt the need to add, “no more talk of ‘earning my friendship’, Dulcinea. We are friends, are we not? Let us not make it complicated by thinking of it in ‘levels.’”

She dipped her head ever so slightly in a barely noticeable nod. That was enough for him.

“Alright.” He sat straight up, and, without further ado, began playing.

And Dulcinea listened.

“This…song,” he began halfway through the piece, the movement of his fingers over the strings being drawn exactly from muscle memory, “my mamá used to sing it to me when I was but a kitten.” He paused and moved to another fret before he played the next part—the bridge, Dulcinea now knew. “You know by now that I was an orphan as well. I was a very healthy kitty, let me tell you, but there were times when I would get sick.

“And I had few friends. Including one. He was an egg.”

Dulcinea arched a brow.

“But that is a story for another night, because what matters now is this song.” He flashed a silly smile at her. “Where was I? Ah, yes. I would get sick for a few days, a week at most, and all the other kids at the orphanage would ostracize me as if I had the plague. Except for my few friends. And the egg. And of course, my mamá.” He flicked the six strings consecutively to make a short but pleasant glissando before diving right into the piece’s chorus. “She would often make a comment about how I rarely ever caught a cold, but at the times I do, I would scare her to death.” He chuckled at the memory. “I would shiver and convulse quite…‘violently’, she would say, and that the fever I would have would have been enough heat to cook an entire banquet for the orphanage.”

Dulcinea mock-gasped. “Truly?”

He gave her a mock-grave stare in return. “Truly.”

Then he stopped playing the guitar to give way for their bursts of laughter.

“Ah…she would be so worried,” he sighed as his laughter ended. “She would take me in her arms and cradle me. And then,” he smoothly continued playing from where he left it, “and then she would sing me this song until I fell asleep on her bosom.”

The smile on her face lessened to a hesitant frown. “But…I saw you…weep over this song. Why? Is she…?”

Puss looked at her curiously for a moment before his own eyes widened as he finally realized what she was trying to imply. “What? No! Of course not, Dulcinea. Mamá Imelda is very much alive, thank Felina.” Then he calmed down. “It is just that…I miss her.”

It took Dulcinea several moments of uninterrupted silence before she pieced it together.

“Oh. You…left her.”

“I had no choice,” he said, and there was no hurt defensiveness in the words, just exhaustion and resignation. “I was exiled from my home town because of a crime I…unknowingly…had a part of.”

They had run out of words to say, but unlike earlier, they had music to fill their silence this time.

“Puss?” she ventured, her eyes never leaving the moon.

“Yes?”

“Is…is this…” And how beautiful she was, he thought, the way the silver light of the moon caressed her white fur. “…a happy tune for you?”

He snapped back to himself as he decided, _well, that was an interestingly phrased question_.

He smirked at her cheekily, an idea popping in his head. “How about we decide for ourselves?”

She tipped her head to the side. “What do you mean?”

…he stopped playing.

He was feeling daring tonight.

He looked at her, his green eyes shining with the silent plea of a child.

“Hum this song for me.”

* * *

“ _Dulcinea!_ ” he screeched, and he scampered over to her and lifted her in his arms. Oh, this was all his fault, this was all his fault…he should not have brought her with him, this mission was too dangerous! If she…if something happened to her, then…he would never be able to forgive himself.

“Please,” he implored her, though her eyes were closed and she was unmoving. For a moment, he feared the worst. “Please tell me that you are okay.”

When she did not so much as twitch a finger, he pulled her to him, hugging her fiercely.

Unbeknownst to him, however, Dulcinea had sneakily cracked an eye open during the hug, and was secretly—guiltily—drawing pleasure from his open display of worry and affection.

Recently, he’d been making her feel all sorts of mischievous feelings that she had never felt before. It made her feel, well, guilty…and a little bit daring.

He’d been rubbing off on her.

“I’m okay,” she finally indulged him.

He gasped and pulled back, looking at her in shock as he held her by the shoulders.

She hummed a happy tune— _his_ happy tune—as if to convince him, then flashed him a grin. “See?”

He was so glad that he burst into laughter and he lifted her in the air. She herself couldn’t help giggling as she spread her arms wide while Puss guided her short flight before finally, he set her to the ground.

They continued to laugh until the wind suddenly hit Puss on the face with his hat. He gracefully slipped it up on his head where it belonged, and she giggled at the flirty stare he then sent her way.

But then…

Then he sighed.

_I…have already lost her._

He put both his paws on her shoulders.

_I would not be able to stand to lose you next._

* * *

**5  
** _lullaby._


End file.
